


wash it all away

by Gremkt



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Established Relationship, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, light-hearted teasing and banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27956150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gremkt/pseuds/Gremkt
Summary: A response to the prompt “washing each other’s hair” 😊💕Featuring moments of tender intimacy, lighthearted banter, and Alistair dumping a jug of water over Carver’s head.
Relationships: Alistair/Carver Hawke
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	wash it all away

Carver was in pain.

He tried to hide it but it was clear from the way he moved, not quite as fast as usual, favouring one side a little more. Alistair didn’t blame him. The injury had been nasty, nasty enough that he had worried that maybe, just maybe, this might be the time he lost Carver. 

But he hadn’t.

Carver was alive, he was ok, and he was finally able to leave the infirmary. 

“Careful,” Alistair warned as Carver stumbled slightly on the uneven floor. “You don’t want to hurt yourself more.”

“I’m fine,” Carver said and although Alistair couldn’t see his face, he knew Carver would be rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to fall and break my neck in my own bedroom.” 

Alistair chuckled, the laugh a little hollow, the idea of Carver being hurt yet again holding it back. 

“Imagine that,” he said. “The great Carver Hawke, defeated in battle, bested by a floor tile.”

Carver waved a hand at him, dismissive. 

“I’m not the great anything,” he said, but although the light in the room wasn’t the best, Alistair thought he might be blushing. 

“You’re one of the greatest things that’s happened to me,” Alistair said softly.

“You’re an idiot,” Carver said, but he was definitely blushing now. 

“And  _ you  _ kind of stink,” Alistair pointed out. “I know you couldn’t exactly wash while you’re trying not to die but phew. Those sponge baths only do so much.” 

“Are you just trying to get me naked?” Carver laughed, trying to hide the involuntary wince as he moved too suddenly. The wound was no longer life threatening but the healers had warned them both it would still take time to fully heal. 

“Well, it’s not like that’s hard. Usually something along the lines of ‘Carver Hawke, take off your clothes please’ works. Or ‘has anyone seen some very impressive arms lately?’. Or just taking off my own clothes usually does the trick too.”

“I wouldn’t complain about that,” Carver said but Alistair just swatted him on the arm, as gently as he could, still a little worried he would hurt him. He knew Carver would hate that, the idea of him fussing, worrying, but… 

“Shut up and get in the bath,” Alistair said, interrupting his own thoughts before they could begin to spiral again, nudging him towards the water he’d already had prepared. “You haven’t had a proper wash since you were hurt and I am  _ not _ kidding about the smell.” 

Carver pulled uselessly with one hand at the bottom of his shirt, unable to properly lift it without the use of both arms. The healer had insisted that the movement in one remained limited, however, worried it would further exacerbate the wound. 

“Let me,” Alistair said, pushing Carver’s hand aside with his own as he pulled the loose cloth over Carver’s head. He couldn’t resist stepping in to give him a quick kiss as the fabric came clear, Carver’s mouth trailing after his as Alistair pulled back. He tossed the shirt to the side, returning to help Carver remove the rest of his clothing. He could feel Carver’s eyes watching him, burning into his skin as he moved.

There was something strangely intimate about standing there next to Carver, fully clothed in contrast to Carver’s nakedness. As his eyes met Carver’s, Alistair felt like he felt it too. The mood had shifted from the earlier joking tone, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Should we undo these?” he asked, one finger trailing over the bandages, around Carver’s shoulder, held in place around his chest. 

The ugly marks where the creature’s claws had gouged through skin, muscle, almost into the bone, were dark against Carver’s skin as the bandages fell free. The healers had done what they could but anything else had to heal naturally, they’d explained. Otherwise they risked Carver losing full mobility in the limb. 

Alistair traced them silently with a finger, brushing as lightly as he could along the skin beside each mark, watching as his hand traced the shape of injury, following the curves of Carver’s muscles. One cut through the tattoo on his chest, splitting the bold inked lines in half. 

He glanced up to see Carver’s eyes on his face, watching wordlessly. 

“Does it hurt?” Alistair asked softly. 

“A little bit,” admitted Carver. “Not as much as it could.”

The water in the bath had lost some heat in the time it had taken to get them there but it was still more than hot enough to be comfortable. No doubt Carver would have been fine climbing in by himself but Alistair helped him anyway. No point letting him slip in such an easily avoidable situation, not when he was already hurt.

As Carver sank into the warm water, he let out a sigh, his eyes fluttering closed in a way that Alistair wasn’t sure was completely intentional. 

“Are you ok?” Alistair checked as he perched on the side of the bath, concerned the reaction was pain and not contentment. 

“Yeah,” Carver sighed, sinking further down into the water. His eyes closed again, properly this time, as Alistair ran his fingers through Carver’s thick hair, hoping to help him relax into the warmth.

He reached for the clay jug that stayed near the bath, reaching around Carver to fill it. A thought crossed his mind as he looked at Carver’s closed eyes, taking only a moment of hesitation before he acted. 

The water cascaded over Carver’s head with a splash and Alistair jumped back out of reach, clutching the now empty jug as Carver spluttered. 

“You ass,” Carver said with a rude gesture, brushing wet hair out of his eyes. Alistair tried, unsuccessfully, not to laugh at his indignant look as Carver muttered something about revenge and Alistair being lucky he couldn’t move properly. 

“Here, I’ll help properly this time,” he said, stepping closer again, Carver watching his every move warily. This time though, he emptied the refilled jug carefully, slowly tipping the water over Carver’s hair until it was wet without him having to bend to submerge his head. 

“I’m not complaining about your sponge baths but I’m already feeling less grimy and gross,” Carver said, pushing back the wet hair that had slipped back down, sticking to his face. “Can you pass the soap?”

Alistair grabbed the soap but as Carver reached for it, he brushed his hand away. 

“Let me,” he said, setting the soap to the side as he refilled the jug. Carver looked at him dubiously as he emptied it once again, just as carefully as the previous one. 

“I can take care of myself,” he objected. 

“I know,” Alistair said, running his fingers through the wet strands, the tips of his fingers separating strands. HIs fingers scratched over Carver’s scalp, trying to make sure every part of his hair was wet. Hair was something hard to clean when somebody was lying in a bed, and as clean as it looked, Carver’s was probably still full of the dirt and sweat and blood that had marked the rest of that day. 

At first Carver tensed, but as Alistair’s fingers worked, tracing circles, starting small and growing larger, he relaxed into the touch, his eyes drifting closed again. 

“You awake?” Alistair asked softly, checking. He didn’t want to send Carver to sleep in a bath and have him accidentally drown there, not on his watch, even if he was right beside him. Carver made a soft affirmative noise, not quite actual words, as Alistair’s hands continued their slow and steady movements. 

Normally water alone would be enough but he knew how long it’d been since Carver’s hair had been cleaned, the condition he’d been in when he was first injured, sweaty, tired, covered in Darkspawn blood, his  _ own _ blood. The soap lathered quickly, the white foam disappearing beneath his hands. Carver’s eyes stayed closed as the warm water washed away the remnants, taking the dirt, the blood, the stress with it. 

“You’re spoiling me,” Carver said. He opened his eyes, a cheeky smirk on his face. “Join me?”

Alistair laughed and Carver raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I could try,” Alistair said, “but in case you haven’t noticed, they make baths for people…  _ smaller  _ than us and usually only one of them. If I tried to get in, we’d probably get stuck. Imagine that, the Warden Commander needing to find us. They’d have to run a rescue operation. Although I’m sure there would be a  _ lot _ of people willing to come and help us out of that ridiculous situation.” 

“Idiot,” Carver muttered, but the affectionate smile on his face betrayed the words. 

“Maybe so but I’m  _ your _ idiot,” Alistair said. He emptied the final jug over Carver’s hair, making sure all traces of the soap were gone. “You’re stuck with me now. And hopefully  _ not  _ stuck in a bath.”

“Yeah.” Carver’s smile lingered. “I’m stuck with you.”

Alistair pushed Carver’s hair, dark and wet, back off his forehead, planting a on his damp skin. 

Are you going to give me the soap now?” Carver asked, still sounding half asleep. 

“Nope.  _ You  _ need to rest your arm. Healer’s orders.”

Carver grumbled something barely audible, something that seemed to be about how Alistair wasn’t a healer, but he didn’t object any further as Alistair reached for the soap. 


End file.
